


Nine Years Ago

by undermounts



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M, Gen, pre-book, pre-game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:41:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23518633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undermounts/pseuds/undermounts
Summary: Asra and the Apprentice go way back.
Relationships: Apprentice/Asra (The Arcana), Asra (The Arcana)/Original Character(s), Asra (The Arcana)/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 6





	Nine Years Ago

There was a tangible feeling of excitement in the air. The whole city was bustling, preparing for the night’s festivities. The Count’s birthday celebration was tonight, and it was promised to be even more spectacular and thrilling than each of the last. But more thrilling than that, there had been rumors, murmurs of a visitor from far out lands.

People moved about, carrying baskets of various goods and chatting excitedly amongst themselves as they crammed through the narrow, cobblestone streets of of Vesuvia. And yet, amidst the cacophony of the titillated crowd sat a small booth in the middle of a near-deserted alley. Constructed of mismatched pieces of colorful, patterned cloth and the occasional fur the setup was something of an eyesore. A homemade sign advertising tarot reading and masquerade masks hung crooked on the outside, haphazardly placed and threatening to fall at any moment.

Asra sat behind a small table covered in shimmery blue cloth with his chin cradled in the palm of his hand as he rearranged the hand painted masks he had laid out before him with poorly disguised boredom. Every now and then, his violet eyes would flick up at the sound of footsteps echoing through the alley and he would straighten in his chair, calling out to the stranger half-heartedly. “Mask for the Masquerade? We’ve got an incredible variety of...Okay, no masks...How about a tarot reading? Three card? Perhaps a love reading?”

No one ever stopped.

Asra sighed, turning to Faust as she curled around his shoulders, tongue flicking out to playfully touch his cheek. “What about you Faust? Do you want a mask? Maybe Muriel and I could make you a little one. Wouldn’t that be adorable?”

 _Muriel,_ Faust thought fondly.

“I know, I wish he was here too, but you know he doesn’t really like other people,” Asra murmured, scritching under Faust’s chin, much to her delight. “Not that there’s really one around,” he sighed dejectedly. “Maybe we should move somewhere else?”

Hardly a second later, the sound of trumpets cut through the air, a royal herald, and the underlying murmur of voices that had served as the background track to Asra’s suddenly grew to a deafening roar. He stood, leaning across his table to peer down the alleyway as Faust hid, nestling into the folds of his clothing. Like a wave, a sudden influx of Vesuvians crowded down the alley to make way for the palace-bound caravan.

For a few seconds, it’s absolute chaos. Far too many bodies are suddenly crowded into the booth, sending masks tumbling to the floor where they are quickly crushed underfoot.

“Hey, watch it!” Asra cried, edging his way around his table to herd people away from his display, heart falling to the pit of his stomach as he catches sight of the trampled feathers and sequins that once adorned the masks he and Muriel had spent days crafting. “You can’t just come in here --oh!”

Another body was suddenly thrust towards him, knocking the air from his lungs as he blindly stumbled back. In an attempt to stop himself and this stranger from falling, he braced one hand on the table, his momentum shoving it back a foot with a loud groan, as the other pressed into the small of their back.

Immediately, Asra’s senses were sharped, hyper-aware of the energy, the _magic_ , that pulsed beneath his hand. It was nebulous, expanding, and consuming, with a core of dense space matter that pulled him into orbit.

When he looked down, he was surprised to see that the source of this was a small woman, her flustered face surrounded by a halo of periwinkle curls. Golden eyes stared back at him, widened in surprise and saturated with apologies.

“I’m so sorry, I--” she started, but was quickly cut off by more shouts from the crowd as it surged once again, vacating Asra’s booth to border the street for a better view of the royal caravan. 

The woman turned away from him, curiosity pulling her towards the mouth of Asra’s shop to glimpse the visitor. She looked back at him and beckoned him forth before pointing in the direction of the crowd. “Come look.”

Compelled not by the visitor, but rather the alluring young woman who now stood before him, Asra joined her at the entrance, peering over the top of her head to see the succession of guards, each donning a helmet with the likeness of various animals. These, Asra’s noted, were the Count’s guards. But mixed among these were other soldiers, clad in less bulky armor and more freely-flowing, breathable fabrics. These, Asra assumed, must belong to the visitor. Whoever that was, must be important.

A carriage followed Lucio’s knights, flanked by less gaudy guards. If Asra squinted, he could just make out the strong and undeniably beautiful profile of a young woman with flowing purple hair.

“Who is that?” he questioned, shifting his gaze from the carriage to the stranger in his shop. Her eyes were still trained on the caravan, enabling Asra to study her without the fear of being trampled.

“A princess,” she murmured, leaning up on her tiptoes. “The seventh, I believe. Nadia Satrinavas of Praka. She’s lovely, isn’t she?”

“Quite,” Asra agreed, although his eyes never stayed from the stranger’s face.

“It’s been said that the Count’s masquerades have a reputation throughout the kingdoms for being so legendary, the princess wanted to see it for herself,” she continued, glancing over her shoulder at Asra with a smug expression. “But, in my opinion, that sounds like something the Count himself made up. My aunt says it’s an arranged marriage. Lucio needs more stability in his rule and he doesn’t seem to be one to settle down quite yet. _I_ think she’s right.”

“She sounds like a smart woman, your aunt.” Asra smiled slyly. There was no love lost for him either when it came to the Count.

The woman grinned back at him. “Oh, yes. Bit of a gossipmonger, that one. But one of the brightest women I know. In fact,” she said, gesturing to the wall behind Asra’s booth, “this is her shop. I came by to visit and bring some herbs for her store. I was just on my out when I was crowded down here…”

Her eyes fell from Asra’s face to the masks that now littered the floor, many of them crushed to pieces. A deep frown formed on her lips as she stooped to pick up a broken bear-faced mask. She dusted it off, running delicate fingers along the intricate designs that adorned the mask.

She looked around the booth, eyes skimming over the torn fabric, dirtied furs, and the trampled sign before falling upon Asra, sympathy and shame clear on her face. “Your shop… we’ve ruined it.”

Asra’s eyes followed the same path hers had previously taken and he was surprised to find that the ruins didn’t bother him nearly as much as it should have. He had a feeling the woman’s presence had something to do with that. How could he care about a few masks and dirtied blankets when something so profoundly exquisite stood before him. His hand still tingled from when he’d touched her. Asra wondered if she practiced magic. She seemed to be made of it, the human embodiment of its very essence.

“Oh, it’s not so bad,” he shrugged, kneeling before her to take the mask from her hands. He turned it over, eyes flicking up to meet hers. “I can always make more.”

The woman stared back at him for few more seconds before standing and holding out her hand to him. “I’m Cassandra.”

 _Cassandra,_ Asra thought, tossing the name around in his head. _Cassandra ,Cassandra, Cassandra._

He quite liked it.

“Asra.” He stood, dusting himself off before taking her hand to shake. Immediately, he was flooded with her magic again, swirling and expanding in his chest like a newly formed galaxy.

“Well, Asra,” Cassandra said, releasing his hand to attend to the ruined fabrics that had come loose from the shop’s structure. “At least let me help you fix this up. It’s the least I can do.”

Asra opened his mouth to protest, but she had already busied herself with tidying up his booth and he had a feeling she wouldn’t listen anyway if he asked her to stop. Instead, he joined her, the two of them working together to fix what had been broken. He was surprised by the ease with which they worked together in the small space, often brushing up against each other without being invasive. It felt natural, as if they had been like this for years. 

So many questions gathered on the tip of his tongue that he was aching to ask. Was she from here? Did she practice magic? What kind? Did she have a familiar? What did she like to eat? Where had she been all these years?

He stayed silent though, sensing that by breaking this silence, comfortable as it was, would break whatever spell had fallen upon them, and that once he did that, they would be brought back to reality, time would stop standing still for them, and she would eventually have to leave him.

“These are lovely,” Cassandra said softly, suddenly. Asra turned, fixing the sign on the wall before coming to stand by Cassandra’s side. She was inspecting the masks again. “You made these yourself?”

“Well, not entirely,” Asra smiled faintly, gazing over at her. How had he gotten so lucky to end up here? “My friend Muriel helped. Would you like to have one?”

She looked up at him, lips forming a perfect “o.” “No, I couldn’t possibly…” Her hands went to the pouch tied at her waist. “I only brought enough for the market today.”

“I don’t want your coin,” Asra promised, shaking his head and turning to his display of masks. “You’ve already done so much to help...It’s the least I can do.” Asra skimmed his fingers across the masks laid out on the table before selecting a peacock feathered one. He held it up for her, the silky green ribbon tickling the inside of his wrist. “Try it on.

“I...if you’re sure,” Cassandra said hesitantly before turning around. Asra fitted the mask over the bridge of her nose and tied it off. “How does it look?”

“Beautiful,” he said softly, averting his gaze as he felt his face flush. To distract himself, Asra entertained the idea of Cassandra having a familiar. She didn’t seem to have one with her now, he didn’t even know if she practiced magic and wasn’t sure how she’d react if he asked. Some magicians, Muriel included, liked to keep their practice a secret, for not everyone reacted kindly to those who use magic.

As Cassandra took off her mask, Asra picked up another one and encouraged her to try on, curious to figure out what animal could be her familiar. They went on like this for a while, Cassandra trying on different masks as Asra smiled softly at her from where he now sat behind his table again, reveling in these stolen moments between them.

“I look like a monster in these, don’t I?” Cassandra laughed, eyes sparkling as she took off another mask. “That’s why you keep giving me more to try on, isn’t it?”

Asra laughed, a light tinkling sound that inspired a smile to blossom on her lips. He cradled his chin in his hands, gazing up at her. “You look beautiful in every single one, Cassandra.”

He’d complimented her numerous times, but there was something different in his voice now. Asra realized it a second too late, after Cassandra’s cheeks had flushed and she glanced away.

“I...thank you,” she said softly, looking down at the fox faced mask in her hands. Golden beams of light fell across her tanned skin, marking the setting of the sun. It was getting late and the spell had broken. “I should go. The masquerade is tonight and I should get ready.”

Asra nodded, straightening in his chair as he tried to smother the twinge of disappointment he felt in his stomach. “Of course.”

“Thank you,” Cassandra told him again, holding up his craft as she slowly backed away. “For this, and well… everything.”

Asra smiled kindly. He wanted to protest, ask her to stay, but he knew not to overstep. He didn’t know exactly who Cassandra was, but he could feel that she was _someone._ She was important. He might never find out how, but he knew that she was more than he could ever deserve. Instead, he shook his head with a passive wave of the hand. “I should be thanking you.”

Opening and closing her mouth a few times, as if deciding what to say, Cassandra finally settled on a smile not unlike his own before she turned around and slipped away.

Alone again, Asra was left with a feeling of contentment, but also yearning. Somehow, in his brief time with Cassandra, he had been exposed to the possibility of having more than what his life currently had to offer. More than a cold cottage in the middle of the woods, more than a ragged booth in a deserted alleyway, more than a lonely life on the streets. Asra knew better than to want what he couldn’t have, he’d be damned if he didn’t want this now.

Faust slithered out from wherever she had been hiding to curl around his arm. She nudged his chin with her nose and he smiled softly, giving her scritches.

 _Cassandra_.

“Yes, Cassandra…” Asra sighed echoing Faust as he wondered if he’d ever see the young woman again.

Would he?

_The Count._

Asra made a face, looking down at his familiar as she twisted her head to look at him upside-down. “What does Lucio have to do with this?”

Faust uncoiled himself from his arm and looped around the masks on the table. _Masquerade._

“Masquer...Faust! That’s genius!” Asra cried, scooping the purple snake into his arms. “She said she’d be there. Do you really think I could find her there?”

Without waiting for a response, Asra began to pack his masks away, pausing when he came across another fox-faced one, not unlike the one he’d given to Cassandra. As he gazed down at the mask, tracing the shape with slender fingers, his brows furrowed. A sudden thought, came over him. How odd...that she should choose that mask, without even thinking. Could it just be a coincidence?

Asra pulled his deck from his pocket, feeling the familiar, magical hum of the cards as he shuffled them. He felt Faust’s gaze on him, her curiosity pressing in on his consciousness through their bond.

“I think the cards may be able to answer this one for me, Faust,” he told her, closing his eyes as he laid them out and held his hand out, trying to find which one called out to him. Biting his lip in anticipation, Asra chose a card and flipped it. His heart skipped a beat as his eyes fell upon the robed fox, created by his own hand.

_The Magician._

Faust squirmed against him in excitement. _Cassandra_.

Asra nodded. “Cassandra.”

He would find her.

**Author's Note:**

> this whole thing was based on the idea that asra used masks to try and figure out the apprentice’s familiar and then it got out of hand oops


End file.
